Airborne
by Kate-The-Great-And-Powerful
Summary: A six-year-old Draco Malfoy loses control of his broomstick and takes an epic journey :) Randomcat100's story, which I have adopted :D
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! This story was originally by the amazingly talented Randomcat100, but I have adopted it, because she is no longer able to update it :( These first four chapters are hers, and I will try and finish it as best I can! Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 1

The little boy's fingers curled around the wood of the broomstick. It was, of course, the very best his mother could get, a Cleansweep Seven.

He smiled, already that smile was becoming a smirk at only six years of age, and looked up. "It's the very best!"

Narcissa smiled tightly, her eyes brimming with worry. "Of course, Draco. I had to make it the best for you, being your first time and all."

Draco's smile widened.. "A _Cleansweep_!"

"A Cleansweep," she echoed faintly. "But be careful."

"I will be," he scoffed, fingers still running over the sleek polished handle. The wood was so smooth, so perfect. At last, he said, "I'm going to show Father."

"Draco, wait!" Narcissa called, but the six-year-old was already racing up one of the sweeping staircases of Malfoy Manor. He whipped open the door to his Father's study. "Father, lo-"

The room was dimly lit, the only light source being the flickering flames of a dying fire in the hearth. The eerie shadows made Draco draw back a little. Lucius was facing the window. Without turning around, he spoke:

"What have I told you about knocking?"

Draco scowled. "I _did_ knock!"

"Don't lie. I know about your broomstick. So go and ride it, and good luck."

With a wave of his wand, the door slammed shut. Draco sighed, then turned around and raced outside. The June air was warm and full of life. A perfect day to ride for the very first time.

He slid onto the end of the Cleansweep, feeling a sot chill in his body. And then he kicked off, in moments he was flying over the fence to Malfoy Manor.

The first thing he felt his exhilaration. Until he lost control, the broom was going too high, too fast…

Panicking, he tightened his legs. "Slow down." Draco snapped at the broom. And then he felt himself slip down, down, down…


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry I haven't posted the next chapter in a while! Especially sorry to Randomcat100, since after all, this is her story :)**

Draco flailed his arms like a windmill, screaming as he felt himself fall. He was going to die. He was going to die. He watched as the ground began to rush at him, and-

With a jerk, he stopped. Draco swung his arms. He was dangling upside down from under his knee. His robes hung around his head. With a frustrated growl, the six-year-old reached up as far as he could to pull himself up but he couldn't quite reach-

The broomstick began to move. Draco allowed himself to hang there, upside down, a queasy feeling settling into the bottom of his stomach. He felt himself slowly floating along, although he couldn't tell which way, but he knew he wasn't going home. Perhaps if he just allowed himself to go wherever the broomstick took him, he could ask for help when he got there. Maybe he would even go to Hogsmeade, and then he'd be able to buy himself something at Honeyduke's or Zonko's. Maybe even go to The Three Broomsticks and get a nice cup of Butterbeer.

Self-consciously, Draco's fingers slid upwards and felt around in the pockets of his robes. Yes, he had money. He could feel a few Galleons and several Sickles. He reached into his other pocket. There was no money, but there was an extra-large unopened packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. It might make the journey nicer. With a little shy smile, the child opened it. He was still floating. He could eat these on the way!

He tore it open and pulled put the first bean, immediately recognizing the yellow brown of vomit. He dropped it down to the ground below and pulled out another. Inspecting it carefully, he could tell it was chocolate. His favorite.

He ate the beans as he awkwardly floated along upside down, this time not daring to risk reaching up. If he fell again, he'd die. Draco didn't know where he was going, but he hoped it was somewhere safe and familiar. Thinking about it, he was almost certain he was going south. What was south of here? He racked his six-year-old mind. South...

Knockturn Alley was south of here! And although it wasn't especially homey, he knew Mr. Borgin. Not that the old fart would help. Maybe he could go to Diagon Alley instead. The Leaky Cauldron was there. Draco nodded to himself. Yes, then, that's where he'd go. Surely that's where the broom would take him. He hoped it would be soon, this floating made his belly fee funny, and he was getting bored. Draco grumbled under his breath. This was taking too long! Could Mummy find him here? Had she put one of her special charms on his broom? When he was four, the first time he had been allowed to play in the countryside all by himself –_allowed_ to play. He had snick outside countless times before – Mummy had put a special charm on his shoes so he would not get lost.

Hours passed. Darkness loomed. Draco had long since finished the beans, his mouth was dry and in desperate need of Butterbeer, or even water would be nice now, and he was getting sleepy, and his tummy was starting to growl, not that it had stopped feeling strange. If anything, it was getting worse. Suddenly, a foul taste burst inside his mouth, churning deep inside. He whimpered before tipping his head back and retching. The taste lingered in his mouth and Draco desperately licked the packaging of his sweets, hoping to get some nice taste to replace the one haunting his mouth now, but it didn't help that he got vomit. Then he licked a Sickle, but it was just as bad.

Tears filled his eyes. Clouded his vision. He wanted to go home. Was Mummy worried about him? Her, certainly. But Father? He couldn't decide. Maybe he was, just a little bit. At home, Mummy would have made him hot cocoa and she would have lit a fire to roast marshmallows over. But he was stuck here, hanging from this stupid broom. Still, Draco didn't dare try to find a better way on for fear of falling.

And then he saw lights. Brilliant lights, beautiful ones. Draco moved his head for a better angle, but his robes blocked his vision. Many minutes passed. How many, he wondered? Fifteen? Thirty? But soon enough, he heard the blaring of horns. And he recognized the city. He'd never been here, of course, it was infested with Muggles, but he still knew that Diagon Alley was in it, sort of. He knew this place. London.

He soared over streets, watching as people gasped and pointed. He glared at them, the bits of scum. He felt himself getting lower, and lower. At last, he saw a magnificent bridge. It was beautiful and high up, sweeping over a roaring river. Draco looked around as he felt himself pick up speed, zooming downwards towards the bridge. The gasps, pints, cries of alarm rang in his ears like a Sneakascope. And Draco felt himself crash onto the ground in the bridge, the pain shooting through his body. His broom jerked itself away from him and floated lazily away. Draco rolled onto his back, moaning. There was nothing but pain. Pain ruled him, it ruled his mind and body and there was nothing else until the blackness began to take over. And then there was no pain, nothing at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter 3! Credit, as always, goes to Randomcat100, because she wrote it XD**

Two long weeks had passed since his crash at Tower Bridge. Two! Draco curled up in front of a Muggle tea lounge. He was hungry, tired, cold, and filthy.

He could smell the tea and the biscuits the Muggles were enjoying. The scent taunted him. He would do anything for one of those, and he couldn't spend his money here.

An elderly woman came out of the shop with a large paper bag of chocolate chip biscuits. Her gaze flickered over to him. Pity washed over her face. Draco looked up at her hopefully. Perhaps she would give him a biscuit.

The woman bent down. She smiled gently at him. "Are you hungry?"

His head bobbed up and down. The woman reached into the bag and dropped a single biscuit into his little hand. Draco eyed it hungrily, but he wasn't going to eat it here.

"Are you here alone? Have you lost your parents?"

Draco's lip quivered. "Are you Muggle scum?" It was a whisper.

"Sorry, darling? Am I what?"

Draco's eyes widened as his fingers closed around the biscuit. He backed away. The woman looked startled. Draco turned around and ran. He ran like never before. That Muggle was touching him! A Muggle! He shuddered as he rounded a corner and dropped to his knees on the curb. A rubbish bin stood before him. His gaze flickered down to the biscuit. It was Muggle food…but he had barely eaten in days. He shoved the delicacy into his mouth. It was still warm and sweet, reminded him of the ones Mummy would make.

Draco wiped his mouth and stood up. He walked for a little bit in the hopes of more food. He could see a large crowd of Muggles a few blocks down and went to investigate. Before him was a huge clock tower. Draco stood on tiptoe. He wished he could get up there. He really did…

And then he was. The Muggles were far below him, and there were gasps. Draco looked around. He was tangled in between the two long hands. He screamed.

"How did he get up there?"

"Someone get him down!"

Draco squirmed. And then he was falling, wind whistling in his ears as he went. He didn't scream, just allowed himself to tumble down…

He landed with the smallest of _thuds_. Gasps filled the air as he stood and shook himself off. His arm was hurting. With a pout, the six-year-old marched away from the gaping Muggles and all the fear in the air.

He began to walk slowly down the street when he bumped into somebody. Slowly, very slowly, he looked up to see a familiar face. A very familiar face.

"Auntie Bella!"

Draco launched himself at his aunt, snuggling up into her waist and closing his eyes. Then he felt hands shoving him off. He looked up to see confusion clouding his aunt's face.

"Aren't you Cissy's kid?"

His head bobbed up and down, recognizing his mother's nickname.

"What's your name again? Dragon?"

"Draco." His voice was scarcely audible.

"Ah, same thing. So, where are Lucius and Cissy? They're here with you, right?"

Draco shook his head ever so slightly. "I'm lost."

"Oh. Well. In that case, home is that way." Auntie Bella pointed behind her.

Tears filled the six-year-old's eyes as he realized his Auntie Bella wasn't going to take him home. He continued walking. And then he heard it.

"Dragon! Dragon, wait!"

He turned. Auntie Bella was racing towards him, realization lighting her gaze. "Dragon. I think…I think I should take you to my place. I think I'm supposed to take care of you."


End file.
